Big Time Dreamweaver
by LazyLazyWriter
Summary: It's just an Urban Legend…or is it? When the guys follow a twitter account on a dare, weird things start to happen. Maybe there is some truth behind this legend…@Dreamweaver - follow if you dare! Plenty of angst and whump to go around..no one is safe!
1. Chapter 1

**TITLE: BIG TIME DREAMWEAVER**

**AUTHOR: LAZYLAZYWRITER**

**RATING: T (For now…may have to go to M)**

**SUMMARY: It's just an Urban Legend…or is it? When the guys follow a twitter account on a dare, weird things start to happen. Maybe there is some truth behind this legend…Follow if you Dare!**

**A/N: Lots of whump to go around…no one is safe : -)**

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE**

Miranda's eyes began to droop.

Her cell phone slowly slipped from her fingers as she drifted off, relaxing into the first bit of rest she'd had in over two days. She was so tired. So very tired. She couldn't stay awake any longer.

Her mind screamed at her, reminding her that sleep was the enemy. Sleep would get her killed. But even as her desire to live battled with her body's exhaustion, she continued to doze off.

She was tired. Beyond tired. And she'd been fighting for so long. Maybe it was time to let go. Maybe it was time to give in.

Her cell phone began to vibrate and she startled back into consciousness, adrenaline bombarding her as she realized what she'd been about to do.

"Oh my god oh my god oh my god!" Miranda whispered to herself, looking around her room wildly, eyes searching. It looked like her room. Everything seemed to be in place. But she'd made that mistake once before and it had almost cost her her life.

That time had been so close.

Andrew hadn't lived through that. He hadn't been paying attention.

Tears filled her gritty, dry eyes, soothing them even as pain filled her at the suddenly remembered pang of loss. Andrew. Her first love, turned best friend. They'd been a part of each other's lives for so long. How could she continue on without him at her side?

Her phone was still ringing, on the floor near her feet. Miranda looked down at it dumbly. She reached down, checking the ID, relieved to see the name that popped up.

Ava.

Still alive.

"Hello?" Her voice sounded weak to her ears. Was she really that far gone?

"Miranda! Oh god, you scared me!" Ava said into the phone. "I thought you'd fallen asleep. I thought you were gone." Miranda could tell her friend was crying.

"Ava. I'm sorry, I'm fine." Miranda said, doubting the words even as she said them. She'd been so close to doing exactly what Ava had feared. Another second and it would have been over.

"Please, Miranda. Please don't fall asleep! You know you can't! Think about Andrew." Ava sobbed, instantly filling Miranda with remorse. Once she was gone, Ava would be on her own. The three of them had started this together. Andrew was gone. Miranda knew she would be next. And then Ava. It was only a matter of time.

"Ava," Miranda said, exhaustion returning as the adrenaline began to fade. "We both know this is it. I can't fight it any longer. I'm so tired." The last part came out in a sob as despair and remorse consumed her. She felt so sorry for the friend she would be leaving behind. Even if only for a while. And her parents…how would they take the news? Would they ever know the truth? Would they ever be able to forgive her?

"Miranda, don't talk like that!" Ava was saying into her ear. "Please! I can't do this without you! I can't do this alone! I'm coming over. Just stay awake until I get there and I'll help you through this. I'll keep you awake."

"No." Miranda said even as she felt her eyelids droop again. She'd lost. She wouldn't hold out until Ava arrived and even if she did, then what? You couldn't fight the inevitable. "I'm sorry, Ava. Please stay safe."

"NO! MIRANDA, NO!"

Miranda clicked the button to end the call and stared at the message that returned to the main screen. It was a direct message from a twitter account she followed.

A twitter account that Andrew had dared her to follow.

A twitter account she wished she'd never heard of.

A tweet meant for her.

MirandaPanda …trapped in a burning building… #Dreamweaver

She wondered if it would hurt. Could dreams hurt? Andrew had screamed, when his time came. He'd screamed so loud that it had actually woken Miranda up. That alone had probably saved her life.

Miranda leaned back against the soft cushions of the chair to look out the window. The sunlight was so pretty. The birds were singing, welcoming the new day. Children were outside, getting on the bus for school. People were heading off to their day. But not her.

She was so tired. She'd never been this tired in her entire life. The past few weeks had taken their toll on her. Weeks filled with terror and dread. Even now, she felt as if terror would always be her constant companion, for as long as she remained awake.

She was so tired of the terror. She was just so tired in general.

Miranda sniffed, wondering if a neighbor was burning leaves outside. It sure smelled like wood burning. A soft haze filled her room even as Miranda jerked upright in her chair.

No.

This was her room!

She was still awake!

Everything looked the same. She was awake! She hadn't fallen asleep!

Please. Please no.

Smoke was filling her small bedroom, making her cough.

She turned to the open window, desperately seeking escape from the thickening cloud of smoke, only to find it closed and locked. She tugged on it, even as her mind told her it was useless.

Trapped. Trapped in a burning building. There would be no escape.

"Please!" She screamed, sucking in more smoke as she yelled. "Please don't do this! Let me out!"

The disembodied voice she knew too well answered her softly. "This is your dream."

"Give me another dream!" Miranda begged, falling to the floor to search for breathable air.

"This is your dream."

She saw the flames then, licking their way up her poster covered walls, burning the faces of Louis…Zayn…Justin Bieber. Their smiling faces disappeared to the flames, blackening and turning to dust before her eyes.

Even they were leaving her and suddenly she hated them.

"Please." She moaned, struggling to suck in even a small breath of clean air. Her chest burned as smoke filled her lungs. The flames slowly moved their way closer to her.

Let me die before I burn. That was Miranda's only wish now. Let the smoke kill me first.

She wished that Ava had gotten there in time, to wake her up. But there would be no waking up now.

The flames kissed the bottom of her foot, making her eyes snap open as she screamed in agony. She pulled her foot away, only to have the flames move with, continuing to envelope her toes, her ankle, up to her knee. More flames joined their friends, working on her other foot and she screamed even louder, trying to escape the pain.

There was nowhere to go. There was no escape.

The flames climbed her body, lazily working their way up her legs to her torso, down her arms until she was completely engulfed. Still she screamed. It was a dream. She wasn't really being burned. And so the nightmare could continue on until the Dream Weaver decided it was enough.

The entity known as Dream Weaver watched the girl burn and scream within her own mind, becoming stronger even as she became weaker.

This was what he craved.

The fear.

The pain.

And eventually, when they died, he consumed their spirits.

With one last scream filled breath, the girl's heart ceased beating and in that moment, Dream Weaver moved on, in search of its next victim. There were many to choose from.

Ava listened to the incessant, unanswered ringing in her ear as she prayed her friend would answer the phone. She'd been calling for the past ten minutes, just after Miranda had hung up. While she waited for an answer she knew would never come, her eyes remained glued to a Twitter account.

Dreamweaver

Followers: 105

She hit refresh.

Follower: 105

There was only one way to Unfollow Dreamweaver. She hit refresh again.

Followers: 105

The phone continued to ring. Ava hit refresh again.

Followers: 104

With a strangled sob, Ava dropped the phone and put her head in her hands, the tears flowing unchecked onto the scratched wood of her desk.

Miranda was dead.

From the floor, her phone pinged the high pitched tone she'd assigned to Twitter. Ava's head snapped up as terror consumed her. She took a deep breath, absently wiping away the tears with the back of her hand.

Not checking the Tweet wouldn't make it any less real.

She had to know. She reached down and clicked the icon shaped like a bird. Once a cute little symbol, now that bird scared the absolute hell out of her.

AvaChick2 … Car accident. #dreamweaver

Ava dropped the phone in horror. It was her turn.

* * *

"So, I'm telling you, it sounds awesome." James said again, putting his arms beneath his head as he relaxed in the warm L.A. sun.

"Where did you hear about this again?" Kendall asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Blond Jennifer. It's all anyone is talking about."

Logan snorted, earning a glare from his friend. "It's an urban legend, James. It's not true."

"Yes it is." James argued. "Blond Jen's cousin's friend's brother-in-law's sister tried it and she said it worked."

Logan rolled his eyes. "Her cousin's friend's brother-in-law's sister? Wow, that totally sounds legit."

"You don't believe me." James smirked.

"Of course I don't believe you." Logan told him. "It's nothing more than an urban legend. By the very definition of an urban legend, it's not true. There is no way that story is true."

"What's not true?" Camille asked, joining the guys with Jo in tow.

"Yeah," Jo said, "What's got you guys arguing this time?"

"James is stupid." Logan said, closing his eyes against the bright sun.

"And Logan is a scaredy cat non-believer." James retorted.

Logan popped an eye open to look at his friend. "I'm not a scaredy cat."

"Whatever, scaredy cat."

"Is this about aliens again?" Jo asked.

"No." James told her.

"Ghosts?"

James shook his head. "Not this time."

"I know." Camille said suddenly. "Big foot."

"Is real." James said firmly. "But no."

"Big foot is real? Seriously James?" Logan asked.

"Read the facts, Logan!"

"Wikipedia articles are not fact!"

"Okay, I give up." Jo said finally. "If it's not aliens, ghosts or Big Foot, what is it?"

"Don't ask." Kendall groaned. "Please don't encourage them."

"Logan says Dreamweaver is an urban legend and isn't true." James told the girls, who frowned.

"What is Dreamweaver?" Camille asked.

"You mean that Twitter game Jennifer was talking about?" Jo said.

"Augh!" Kendall groaned again. "You had to go and ask!"

" Dreamweaver," James explained, glaring at Kendall, "is a Twitter account. People say that if you follow Dreamweaver, you will receive random tweets detailing different types of dreams. You'll have that exact dream the next time you sleep. I'll say it again…it sounds pretty cool."

"It sounds stupid." Logan muttered.

"So….you're saying you'll dream whatever dream was in the tweet?" Camille asked doubtfully.

"See! See James? It's stupid!" Logan began.

"Says the guy who is too scared to try it." James teased.

"Am not!" Logan said defensively. "It just sounds stupid."

"I think it sounds like fun." Carlos said, high-fiving a smiling James.

Logan rolled his eyes.

"Oh, come on Logan." Camille laughed. "Carlos is right. It sounds like fun. Don't you want to see what happens?"

Logan just stared at her, trying very hard to ignore the smug look James was shooting in his direction.

"I bet you that you're too scared to try it." James taunted.

Logan glanced around at the crowd that was beginning to gather around the group. "I bet you're stupid." Logan retorted lamely, already sensing the lost.

"I dare you."

"What are we? Five?"

"I double dare you."

"Ooooohhhhh." Carlos grinned. "A double dare."

"James, give it a rest. I'm not doing it."

"I double dog dare you."

Logan sighed again. He'd known James long enough to know that he wouldn't stop. Kendall and Carlos watched the exchange, smiling. It always came down to dares when Logan and James argued. And Logan always caved.

"I triple dog dare you!"

The gathered crowd gasped. Logan gave them all an incredulous look. "So, we're doing scenes from A Christmas Story now? Should I stick my tongue to a light pole to see if it sticks? News flash, genius…IT STICKS!"

"No need to stick your tongue anywhere." James smiled, pulling out his phone. "Just sign into Twitter and simply follow an account."

"This is stupid." Everyone was watching. Logan sighed again. "So that's it? You just follow the account?"

James flashed a triumphant smile, sensing victory. "That's it."

"Fine." Logan gave in, irritably pulling his phone from his pocket. "But I'm not doing it alone!"

"I'll do it." Camille said.

"Me too." Jo pulled out her phone.

Carlos, James and Kendall had their phones out, already signing into their accounts. Logan signed in to his own account, trying hard to ignore the knot of apprehension already forming in his stomach.

It was just a stupid urban legend.

It wasn't true.

Still, he briefly debated pretending to follow the account.

"I'm checking your follows!" James warned him, guessing his plan.

"Fine." Logan growled. He searched for the account and read the description.

Dreamweaver … weaver of dreams. Your dreams await…follow if you dare.

The account had 100 followers.

"Are you sure this is even a thing?" Logan asked, raising an eyebrow at James. "It only has 100 followers."

"Weird." James said. "There were more followers an hour ago when I first found the account."

"Because people realized it was stupid and unfollowed the account." Logan muttered.

"Just hit Follow."

All around him, phones were out and people were hitting Follow, laughing and smiling

It wasn't true. Urban Legends were just that…legends. So what harm could come from pressing one little button?

"Come on Loges." James laughed. "Join us."

"Oh what the hell." Logan said.

He hit the Follow button.

**TO BE CONTINUED:**

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**A/N: A new horror story, you ask? YUP : -) I miss Obsession so much that I feel the need to start a new horror story. Don't actually try to follow Dreamweaver on Twitter…I did try to get that account to coincide with my story but someone else owns it…LOL : -)**

**REQUESTS: Of course this story will include TONS of different dreams. Soooooo…if you have a request for a dream, please include it in a review. I'll take any type of dream, cute or nasty, and any main character from Big Time Rush. Any pairings too.**

**Oh, and Big Time Deliverance will be updated by Friday : -)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: If you have a dream idea for someone, let me know and I'll do my best to include it!**

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**CHAPTER TWO**

Logan held his breath, waiting to see if something happened after he hit the Follow button. He almost laughed at himself after the seconds ticked by and horrible events didn't occur.

What had he been expecting anyway? Gruesome ghosts, rising up from the ground, intent on murder and mayhem? Yeah, okay. He actually felt ridiculous as he reclaimed his chair by the pool and reached for his lemonade. One by one, the crowd began to disperse, each of them wearing silly, embarrassed grins as they walked away, obviously feeling the same ridiculous feelings that Logan was experiencing.

He blamed current Hollywood movie makers for all of their silly horror flicks. They made great date movies…who didn't want their date snuggling in close during an especially scary scene…but they also made the teenage population prone to ludicrous supernatural fears.

Like Dreamweaver.

Obviously, some bored person sitting at home on their computer, with nothing better to do, had come up with Dreamweaver. And like all urban legends, word of mouth spread and embellished the story until nothing about it was real any longer.

"So, guess nothing happens." James laughed, smiling sheepishly at his friends. "Hah! Would have been cool though."

"Cool to have a tweet dictate a dream?" Logan asked him.

"Yeah." James answered.

"You and I have very different definitions of cool."

James laughed. "You just figured that out?"

Logan frowned at him. "Nice."

James was about to retort when his phone pinged. He rolled his eyes at Logan, smiling as he reached for his phone to check the message.

"Huh. A tweet." He read it, his smile growing larger and larger.

"What is it?" Kendall asked. "Another fan telling you she wants to have your love child?"

"Or that she wants to marry him." Carlos laughed, making smooching noises.

"Close." James told them. "For all you doubting dorks, it's a tweet from Dreamweaver."

Logan gaped at him. "Funny."

"No seriously. It's a direct tweet from Dreamweaver. Here, look for yourself." He passed his phone to Logan, who sighed before reading it out loud for the rest of the group.

JamesDiamond…..Sex dream…..#Dreamweaver

"Sex dream? Seriously?" Logan said, handing James back his phone. "Are you kidding me? The first dream horny James gets is a sex dream? Big stretch…doesn't he have those all the time?"

"Awesome!" James laughed. "See? I told you Dreamweaver was real!"

"You haven't had the dream yet, genius." Logan reminded him.

"Fine." James told him. "I'll go to sleep tonight and when I wake up tomorrow morning…after having an awesome dream involving some hot chick…you can apologize to me."

Logan smirked. "Whatever."

Logan's phone pinged, followed by the pings from his friends' phones, startling all of them.

"What the?" He said, reaching for his phone. He smirked at James when he read the message. "Well well well…how about that? Dreamweaver thinks I should dream about sex tonight too."

"What?" James said. "Let me see that!" He read the message on Logan's phone and his face fell.

"Me too." Jo said, showing them her phone. "Sex dream."

"So, like everyone gets the same dream?" Camille asked as her phone pinged. She reached for it eagerly. "Oh. That's weird. Mine says Voyeur dream."

"Logan…translate please?" Kendall asked.

"Voyeur…means watcher…onlooker…" Logan explained.

"I got that one too." Kendall said.

Carlos was nodding. "Me too."

"Wow." Logan said, stretching as he stood up. The sun was fading, the air was cooling, and it was time to head inside. "Looks like your Dreamweaver isn't very creative. Sex and voyeur dreams. For everyone. Real original."

"Whatever. Sex dreams are cool." James laughed. "And if it happens tonight, all the more cool."

"Gross." Camille said, picking up her stuff to head inside with the guys.

"Said the girl who likes to watch." James shot back.

Camille laughed, playfully punching him in the arm as the group headed in for the evening.

Hours later, the guys got ready for bed. No one had talked about Dreamweaver since heading in from the pool, but it hadn't been far from James' mind all evening. Wouldn't it be awesome if he did have a sex dream? He totally believed that Dreamweaver would work. Jennifer's cousin's sister, or something like that, had tried it and it had worked. He changed his clothes and got into bed, willing himself to hurry the heck up and fall asleep.

In the bed across the room, Carlos was already sleeping, snoring softly in the dark. James briefly wondered if he was having his voyeur dream yet…whatever that meant. Watcher? Onlooker? To what, exactly? James closed his eyes, wondering when he'd fall asleep. Why was this so hard? He just wanted to fall asleep and dream about hot girls and sex. Was that too much to ask?

Logan had gotten sex dream too. James wondered if he was dreaming yet. About time that guy got some action…even if it was just in a dream. Those thoughts led James to wonder if Logan and Camille were having sex yet. He wasn't sure. They made out all the time. And James meant all the time! They were constantly lip locked, whenever they got a moment alone. And there was that time that Logan supposedly 'fell asleep' at Camille's when her dad had been out of town. Mrs. Knight had yelled at him good for that one and then she'd subjected them all to a horrible sex talk. She'd called Logan's mom too and then she had yelled at him good and Logan had never 'fallen asleep' at Camille's again.

How embarrassing.

"Fresh meat!"

The gruff voice caught James by surprise and he jerked upright in his bed, dazedly looking around his room.

But he wasn't in his room.

What the hell?

"Yeah, boy! We got us some nice fresh meat up in this place!" Another voice joined the first, followed by cat calls, whistles, lewd comments that made James blush.

Where the hell was he?

The brick walls of the room…the squeaky cot he was laying on…the bars over the door.

A man dressed as a prison guard appeared in front of the door. "Get up, cupcake. There are some folks who would like to meet you."

James just looked back at him, frowning. "I'm sorry?"

The guard scowled. "You will be if you don't move. They don't like to be kept waiting."

"Come on." The voice to his right took him by surprise and James turned to see another man, round and pudgy, with a rosy complexion and a scared look in his bespectacled eyes, rise from the adjacent bed. "We can't hide in here forever."

"Hide?" James repeated. What the hell was going on? Where was he? And why was he wearing a horrendous black and white outfit?

"Porky pig is right." The guard said, flinging open the door and motioning for the pair to vacate the cell. "The faster you get out there, the faster you get initiated and they leave you alone. Unless they really like you…then you may be in for some trouble."

"WHAT?" James screeched, backing up against the far wall of the cell. "What the hell is going on here?"

The noise outside was becoming deafening as the occupants took up a chant, calling out the fresh meat. James thought the entire building was vibrating from the force of their shouts.

"I can't." The other man was stammering. "Please don't make me! I can't go out there!" He was suddenly cowering back in his bunk, shrinking away from the guard who stalked over to him, baton at the ready.

"Get out there now, Porky, or I'll make sure you never leave the infirmary!"

"No!" The man screeched, his pleas turning to wails as the guard began hitting him brutally with his nightstick. James shrank back, horrified by the sudden violence in front of him. Blood spurted from the man's nose as the guard's baton connected with a solid crack and James fought against the bile rising in his throat. The squealing noises the man was making mixed together with the deafening chanting from outside the cell door, making it hard for James to think. It was all too much. It felt too real.

This was a dream, right? That's what was happening?

But damn, his fear was real. The entire situation felt way too real.

The guard was wiping blood off the baton as he turned to glare at James. "How about you, dreamboat? You going out there nicely or do I need to teach you a lesson too?"

James gulped, looking at the other man on the bed, appalled by the cuts and bruises already forming on the poor sap's face. "I'll go." He stammered, willing his legs to take him to the edge of the cell, just inside the door. The guard was hauling the wounded man to his feet, shouting profanity at him, calling him so many horrible names, as he dragged him bodily towards the door. With a sharp push, he flung James out of the cell and into a walkway, two stories up, looking out onto a common room of some sort. James' heart stopped when he looked down and saw the room below filled to capacity with loud, dirty men.

"Please." The fat man behind him moaned, tears running down his bloody cheeks. "Please, spare me! I hurt so much already!"

"Quiet, you!" The guard spat out, hitting him again and again until the other man could only sob hysterically.

James watched the scene in front of him, feeling oddly detached from everything. This wasn't real. It was only a dream. He could wake up whenever he wanted to.

And he wanted to wake up now!

"Not going to happen, cupcake." Another guard whispered, coming up behind him. "No waking up until the dream is over."

James spun around, instantly feeling dread at the newcomer's words. "What?"

"Yes, this is a dream. But Dreamweaver's dreams aren't yours to control. It will be played out however Dreamweaver wants and you'd better go along with it, if you know what's good for you."

"It's only a dream." James repeated out loud. "You are only a dream. This isn't real."

"It's real enough for you, dream boat. And with a face like that, it's sure going to feel real too." The new guard smirked. "You sure are going to be popular here."

A horrible realization hit James like a ton of bricks. Sex dream. That was his dream tweet. And he was in a prison. Full of men.

"No!" James screeched, trying to run back into the cell he had just vacated. "This isn't happening!"

The guards lunged for him, dragging him out as he fought and clawed at them. "Why put it off, cupcake? You got your dream…just let it happen and it won't be so bad for you."

James watched in horror as the beaten man was dragged down the stairs by some guards, no longer fighting. He seemed almost docile in his acceptance of his fate. The crowd below cheered as he was brought down and then he was lost in a flurry of movement below and James lost sight of him.

"He thought it was just a dream too." The guard whispered hotly in James' ear. "See how well that worked out for him?"

James caught sight of the man a time or two, his face screwed up in terror as he tried to get away. There was a sudden flurry of movement below as the nameless victim got loose and made a break for the exit, bloodied and naked. Guards materialized as if from thin air to block the exits.

"There is no escape." The guard holding James whispered, watching the scene below. "You can't get away."

The man below looked like he was screaming as the guards converged on him, but James couldn't be sure. It was just so loud; he couldn't hear anything but the reverberating chanting of the men below. He watched in detached fascination as the man went down under a slew of batons, only to remain motionless on the ground as blood pooled around him to coat the cement floor.

"And then there was one less follower." The guard laughed. "Let's see how it turns out for you. Ready, cupcake?"

James renewed his struggles as the two guards flanking him began pushing him towards the stairs that led to the floor below. Below him, the sea of humanity whooped and spewed out all types of lewd comments that made James blush and struggle even more against his captors. All eyes were on him as he was forced to his knees at the edge of the crowd.

"We got ourselves some fresh meat!" A large man near James yelled, making the men near him erupt in cheers. "And he's a purdy little piece of meat!"

James' eyes grew wide as a group of men broke off from the larger crowd and headed towards him. "Please." He said desperately, not above begging. His heart was beating in his chest so hard he thought it would burst. "Please just leave me alone."

"That's right." The large man murmured, standing in front of James. "Beg us. We like when you beg us."

James closed his eyes, desperate to block out the circle forming around him. "This isn't happening." He whispered to himself. "This is a dream. This isn't real. Wake up, James. Wake up."

"It may be a dream." The man murmured back, rough hands hauling James up to his feet, rancid breath only inches from his face making him recoil away. "But it's going to hurt real enough."

Brutal hands pulled at his clothes, touching his body, making him whimper as he suddenly found himself naked in the crowded room. For a moment, all eyes were glued on him as he tried in vain to cover himself. There was no mistaking the lust in those cruel, shrewd eyes.

Sex dream.

That's what the tweet had said. As James stood there, cold and alone in a crowded room, he couldn't help but think that this dream should have gone differently. And then the calm broke and he could no longer think about anything but the pain as hands grabbed him and the dream ran its course.

Above him, held frozen by an unseen force, not able to speak or move, a lone figure watched as his friend was abused and violated in the most horrible way. Tears ran down his face as despair washed over him, but still he could not move. He could not call out words of comfort to his friend as person after person abused him and made him scream…made him bleed. All he could do was watch. More than anything, Carlos wished this dream would end. He couldn't watch this any longer.

Please. The thought swirled around in his brain, begging to be heard. Please let me wake up. Please let this end.

He tried in vain to close his eyes, but even they refused to grant him a reprieve from witnessing the horrors below. A whispered voice floated around him, taunting him as he struggled to get free of whatever was holding him in place.

"It can't end for you until it ends for him." The voice said. "You are a voyeur. You get to watch."

Please let me wake up. Carlos begged again, wishing he could speak. Please please please.

His friend was in so much pain. That much was obvious. If only it could stop. If only Carlos could wake up, the dream would end.

The crowd around James was thinning out and only one man was left. He stalked around the abused boy, making him back up as he tried to get away. But there was nowhere for him to go. With a growl, the man was on him and then James was screaming again and Carlos was screaming right along with him, though only in his mind. Minutes later, the man pushed James away, where he landed in a bloody heap.

Please let it be over. Carlos begged again.

"He survived." The voice whispered, angering Carlos with its disappointment. "I'll see you next time."

**TO BE CONTINUED:**

* * *

**A/N: Up next, Logan and Camille's dream….I think the guys will start to figure out that Dreamweaver isn't as awesome as they first thought…..**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This chapter gets a little graphic…not too graphic…but some sexual stuff is said. You've been warned.**

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE**

Logan woke up to soft kisses on his neck. He smiled, leaning into the touch, enjoying the warmth on his skin. "Hmmmm." He said softly, "That's nice."

More kisses rained down on him as a hand moved slowly downward, cupping him gently, making his breath hitch in his throat as he arched into the touch more. He opened his eyes to stare up into the eyes of Camille, who smiled down at him.

"What is this?" He asked, his voice strangled as her hand began to rub against him, quickly bringing him to life.

"This is a dream." Camille purred. "A good dream. Let it happen."

"A very good dream." Logan groaned, loosing himself to her touch. He felt her hands fumble with the waist of his pajama pants, lowering them down past his hips, just enough to get to the object of her desire. He closed his eyes, enjoying the sensations she was causing, completely oblivious to his surroundings. He never even noticed as Camille grabbed first his right arm and then his left arm, raising his arms up past his head, expertly locking them in the restraining cuffs attached to the corners of the bed. He tugged gently, his eyes flying open when he realized he couldn't move.

"Camille, what are you doing?" He asked, startled. His eyes widened even more when he saw that it was no longer Camille touching him, but Ms. Collins, staring down at him with an evil gleam in her eyes.

"Ms. Collins? What the hell?" Logan squeaked, struggling to free his wrists as he looked up at his teacher in horror.

"Someone's been bad." Ms. Collins purred, holding his legs in place with her body while she reached down to secure his ankles to the cuffs at the foot of the bed. Within seconds, Logan was completely immobile…and completely at her mercy. "Someone needs to be punished."

"What? No! This is weird." Logan said. "Let me up!"

"You can leave when I'm done playing with you." Ms. Collins murmured, her hands returning to his mid-section.

"Stop!" Logan pleaded, squeezing his eyes shut, a soft moan escaping as she continued to touch him.

"Your mouth says stop, but your body disagrees." She moved down his body, lowering her head to take him in her mouth and he groaned, overwhelmed by the powerful sensations she was causing.

"This is a dream." He whispered, his eyes still closed. "This isn't real. I can wake up whenever I want to."

Ms. Collins stopped, looking up at him with calculating eyes. "Do you want to wake up?"

"Yes." Logan whispered. "I want to wake up."

"You don't like me?" She sounded hurt.

"It's just a dream." Logan repeated to himself.

Ms. Collins slowly stood up and Logan got a good look at her outfit. Black leather outfit. Thigh high black boots. The uniform of a dominatrix. "If you aren't into the sweetsy stuff, maybe you like it a little more rough." She murmured, her eyes hardening as she looked down at him.

A little more rough?

"No!" Logan stammered, shocked by how fast her demeanor had changed. "Not into the rough stuff at all. Let me out!"

"Someone's been a bad boy." Ms. Collins murmured.

"No I haven't!" Logan argued, pulling at the restraints. "Where's Camille?"

Ms. Collins frowned. "Camille?" Her lip extended out into a pout. "You would rather be with Camille?"

"Yes!" Logan yelled. "Let me up!"

Ms. Collins let her eyes wander down his bound body. "Looks like you already are."

Logan's face turned a bright shade of red. "This is wrong on sooo many levels!"

"Is it?" Ms. Collins returned to the bed, straddling his hips as she planted kisses on his neck. "Just let it happen."

"No!" Logan protested again, lifting his hips off the bed in an effort to get the older woman off of him.

"What's wrong, little boy?" Ms. Collins asked in a voice that definitely did not belong to Ms. Collins. Her eyes hardened as she glared down at him. "Not hot for teacher?"

"No! I mean…what?" Logan stammered, fear prickling at the back of his neck. This was a dream, right?

Ms. Collins looked around the room. "So you don't want to be here? Fine. I can take you someplace else. Tell me Logie-Bear, do you like it when people watch?"

Logan gave her a confused look. "Watch? Watch what?"

"Do you like an audience when you have sex?"

"NO!"

"I think you do. I think you love it when people stare at you…when people lust after you. I think it turns you on. You are such a naughty, naughty boy." She said, slapping his cheek gently before clapping her hands together.

"Very well." She snapped her fingers and suddenly Logan was on his feet, standing spread eagled, his ankles cuffed to the floor, his arms above his head, cuffed to chains hanging from the ceiling.

"I think someone's been a bad boy." Ms. Collins murmured again, stalking around Logan while he tugged at the restraints. "Don't you think so, class?"

Logan suddenly found himself in the Palm Woods classroom, still restrained, wearing only his pajama bottoms…in front of the entire class.

"What?" Logan asked, his face immediately turning red as all eyes focused on him. "I haven't been bad at all! Let me go!"

"Mr. Mitchell forgot to turn in his homework this morning." Ms. Collins told the class, who all gave Logan disapproving glances, making him blush even more. "Don't you think that's bad, class?"

"Yes, Ms. Collins." The class answered in unison. All but Camille. Her wide eyes glanced around the room, seemingly confused.

"What homework?" Logan asked, his voice going higher as he began to panic.

"Bad boys need to be punished, don't they class?"

"Yes, Ms. Collins." His friends answered again, still glaring at him. Logan looked at everyone in the room, his eyes pleading with them to help. Blank stares met his pleas. Even from Kendall, Carlos and James.

"Guys!" He pleaded while Ms. Collins turned to smirk at him. "Please! Get me out of here!"

"You should have done your homework." James responded angrily.

"Yeah, stupid!" Carlos spat out, laughing.

"This isn't real." Logan muttered to himself. "This isn't real. It's a dream. A really weird, bizarre dream."

"Is that what you think?" Ms. Collins murmured in his ear, the closeness making him extremely uneasy. "You think it can't be real, just because it's a dream?"

"I…what?" Logan stammered. Was the dream just admitting that she was a dream? How screwed up was that?

"This is a dream." Ms. Collins continued. "But Dreamweaver's dreams are real. Everything you feel will be real."

"Dreamweaver?" He watched as she toyed with the whip hanging on her belt, her fingers slowly moving up and down the smooth leather.

"You wanted a sex dream."

"I didn't want a sex dream!" Logan argued, still watching her walk around him.

"Pervert!" Blond Jennifer said, earning choruses of agreements from the other kids in the class.

"I'm not a pervert! The tweet was sent to me! I didn't ask for it!"

"Yes, Logan is a dirty, dirty little boy. How should I punish him?"

"Pain." Came the chorused reply.

This dream was getting to real and Logan was starting to panic.

"This isn't real, Logan." He muttered to himself, closing his eyes to block out his demonic classmates. "Wake up wake up wake up!" He cracked his eyelids, hoping to find himself back in his room, but instead finding himself face to face with a scowling Ms. Collins.

"It may be a dream." She whispered in his ear. "But the pain will be real."

"Please." Logan whispered back, feeling his pulse increase as fear took hold. "Please just let me go."

"You can let go and enjoy the things I will do to you." She told him. "Maybe you'll like this."

"I won't." Logan said firmly. "It's only a dream. I can control a dream."

"Careful, little boy." Ms. Collins warned, her voice deepening again. "I can be anyone. Someone you fear, perhaps?"

Gustavo replaced Ms. Collins, standing so close that Logan had to resist the urge to pull back. "Are you afraid of me?" Gustavo asked darkly, looking Logan up and down.

"Right now I am!" Logan squeaked.

"How about me?" Griffin was suddenly in place of Gustavo, looking more ominous than Logan had ever seen him.

Logan closed his eyes again. "Not real not real not real!"

"But it is real." Ms. Collins argued, pulling a riding crop from her belt. She smacked it against the palm of her hand, making Logan flinch. "So this is supposed to be a sex dream." She said, watching Logan. "Do you enjoy sex dreams?"

Logan's eyes were glued to the object in her hand. She slapped it against her palm angrily when he didn't answer. "Do you enjoy sex dreams, Mr. Mitchell?"

"No." Logan answered hesitantly.

"NO?" She slapped the crop against her palm again. "Did you just say no?"

"I mean…yes?" Logan stammered.

"Yes, what?"

"Um…yes, I enjoy sex dreams?" Logan tried. "But not this one." He muttered under his breath.

Ms. Collins glared at him while the class erupted in boos.

"Class, Mr. Mitchell isn't having a good time. What should I do about that?"

"Pain." They answered, still in creepy unison.

Logan's eyes traveled over each face, searching for an ally. When he reached his three best friends, he knew not even they were on his side. And that was his worst nightmare. To be without the support of his best friends.

"Mr. Mitchell, do you understand that you have been bad?"

Logan tore his gaze away from his 'friends', suddenly angry. What the hell kind of dream was this?

"No." He answered sullenly. "I don't."

"Hmmmm." Ms. Collins murmured, walking behind him. "So you don't believe that you need to be punished?"

Logan glowered as he felt her hands touch his bare skin, stopping at the waistband of his sleep pants. "No." He growled. "I don't. And get your hands off me."

"I can be Griffin." She warned. "Would you prefer the things he could do to you that I cannot?"

Dread filled Logan at the implied threat in her voice. He shook his head quickly, causing her to laugh.

"Let's play a game." She purred. "You're smart so you should like this game." Her hands roamed freely over his bare chest and shoulders. "You have such a lovely, young body."

Logan closed his eyes, mortified to have so many eyes on him while she continued to touch him. Her head leaned up to lick at his neck and he flinched while her hot tongue lazily ran over the sensitive skin below his ear, leaving a burning sensation in its wake. The class snickered, making his face turn even redder as his humiliation grew.

"Let's start the game." Ms. Collins said, suddenly moving away to stand in front of him.

"I don't think I want to." Logan said quietly. He yelped when her hand struck his cheek hard, making his eyes water.

"From now on, do not speak unless I tell you to, Mr. Mitchell. Is that clear?"

Logan didn't answer, glaring at her instead through watery eyes. He hissed when she struck his cheek a second time, this time so hard the thought she may have loosened a molar.

"Is that understood, Mr. Mitchell?" She asked him again as she slowly brought the crop up rest near his thigh. When he refused to answer her again she struck the crop against his leg.

"OW!" Logan yelled, stunned by just how much the seemingly light blow had hurt. "YES! I understand! You're a freakin nut job, you know that! OW! Cut it out!" He cried when she hit him again.

"That mouth will get you into trouble, young man." Ms. Collins scolded. "Now let's start. "We're having a pop quiz. If you answer incorrectly, I will be forced to punish you. If you answer correctly, I will reward you."

Logan took a deep breath, willing the stinging in his thigh to go away. He could do this. School was the one place that he never failed.

"Question One. What is the capital of Slovenia?"

Logan looked at her. "Slovenia?"

"It was on the homework, dude!" James smirked from his seat. Carlos laughed and high-fived his friend while Kendall glared at Logan.

"Okay, um." Logan stared at the riding crop while he struggled to remember the obscure capital. He knew this! This was school…he could do this. "Um…it's Ljubljana." He closed his eyes, bracing for the slinging pain of the crop.

Which never came.

He cracked an eye open, staring into the stormy face of Ms. Collins. "Correct." She growled, looking less than happy.

Logan sighed with relief. "Thank God!"

He didn't see the hand reach out to slap him…he only felt its stinging blow as his head whipped around from the force.

"Do NOT speak again unless I tell you to." Ms. Collins fumed quietly. "That is your last warning before I get rough."

BEFORE she gets rough? Logan thought. What the HELL was all this previous stuff then?

She turned around to scan the class. "Blond Jennifer, reward him."

Logan's eyes shot to the blond girl as she slowly stood up, her short skirt giving him a great view of her tanned and toned legs. She smirked when she saw him looking and he gulped as she sauntered over to him, never taking her eyes off of his.

"Um…hi?" Logan said awkwardly when she stopped in front of him.

"Shhhh." Jennifer whispered, holding a finger up to his lips. "Don't talk. Enjoy."

Her hands moved to the waistband of his pajama pants and Logan started to struggle. "No!" He stammered, his eyes going wide as he looked down to watch her. "Stop, please."

"Stop?" She looked at him with quizzical eyes. "You don't want my reward?"

"No." Logan said again, his eyes shooting to the back of the room, where a confused Camille sat, staring back at him. He saw the look of hurt cross her face, though she didn't say anything. She just sat there, staring back at him.

Ms. Collins followed his gaze to the back of room. "You think she cares? This is just a dream, right Logan? You can do whatever you want."

Logan shook his head, moving his hips away from the blond girl when she moved her hands to his waistband again. "I don't want to do this. Okay? Not even in a dream!"

Ms. Collins frowned. "Too bad! You got the question right, Logan. You get rewarded."

"Then punish me!" Logan pleaded. "I don't care. I don't want a reward."

"He must be shy." Jennifer murmured, kissing his neck softly while her hands traveled over his chest.

"Start him off slowly." Ms. Collins ordered. "We'll start with his pants. He's wearing too much clothing for a sex dream."

"What?" Logan squeaked again. "No I'm not! I'm not wearing too much clothing! I'm not!" Dream or not, the last thing he wanted was to be naked in front of his friends and entire class. Despite what dream Ms. Collins said, Logan was definitely not into exhibitionism.

The crop flashed out, catching him harshly in the back and Logan grunted in pain, surprised and shocked by the blow he hadn't seen coming. He could feel a burning line of fire extending from his shoulder to his hip, where the whip had hit him.

Holy shit, but that had hurt!

"Are you questioning me, Mr. Mitchell?"

Logan shook his head quickly, embarrassed when a single tear ran down his cheek. As if this whole thing wasn't bad enough, now he was crying in front of a Jennifer. He closed his eyes, completely mortified, as Jennifer grabbed the waistband of his pajama pants and slowly, torturously, lowered his pants to the ground, causing the class to erupt in a chorus of catcalls and lewd comments.

Why couldn't he freakin wake up? He'd never had this problem before! He'd always been able to wake up from a dream, whenever he'd wanted to. He gasped when he felt a soft hand close around the most intimate part of his body and slowly start to stroke him.

In front of the entire class.

"Open your eyes, Logan." Ms. Collins ordered softly, making Logan shake his head in denial. He didn't want to see the class staring at him. He would die from embarrassment. Especially when Jennifer was doing…what she was doing…to him. He knew the hit was coming…he'd disobeyed her again…but it still hurt like hell and he cried out as the pain from the riding crop striking his thigh mixed with the intense feelings of Jennifer stroking him. His eyes flew open and he looked at Ms. Collins as he struggled to keep control of himself.

"Question Two."

They were still playing the game? Logan doubted his ability to think at all as every ounce of available blood left his brain and headed south.

"What is the diameter of Uranus?"

Jennifer increased her strokes and all Logan could think about was the building sensation in his groin. "My…WHAT?" He ground out through clenched teeth.

"The planet, idiot!" Kendall yelled, making the class laugh.

"Uh…" Logan groaned, completely unable to focus. The diameter of Uranus? He knew this. He loved the planets. He'd been to the planetarium like a hundred times!

"Times up! Thank you Jennifer, you can return to your seat." Ms. Collins said and Jennifer immediately let go of Logan and strode back to her seat, giving him a victorious smile when she sat down. Logan's head fell forward as he tried to regain his senses. He'd failed to answer a question! A question he knew the answer to!

51,118 km! Everyone knew that!

"You cheated!" He said to Ms. Collins, anger building at the injustice. He'd been distracted! He hadn't been able to focus.

Ms. Collins just smiled as she brought the crop up to his face, making him flinch back. She ran it gently over his cheek, under his chin, then down his bare chest, tickling him with the leather end. "You didn't answer correctly. Did he class?"

"No." They answered, snickering.

"What did I tell him I'd do if he answered wrong?" She sing-songed.

"Punish him!"

She was standing behind him now and Logan thought that the waiting was the worst. He knew what was coming. He just didn't know when.

"I'm going to make your skin a lovely shade of red." Ms. Collins purred in his ear. "You won't sit for a week when I'm through with you."

"Just do what you're going to do and shut up." Logan growled, tired of the whole game. He just didn't care anymore.

A light tap against his skin with the crop had him flinching again as Ms. Collins frowned. "I will teach you some manners, young man, before you leave here."

"Doubtful." Logan said in response.

When she began beating him with the crop, Logan suddenly believed she could make him do whatever she wanted, just to make the pain stop. She methodically hit him time and time again, starting with his upper back and making her way down, to his backside, then up again. Logan lost count of how many times she struck him with the small leather crop as the pain became one big burning inferno on his back. Tears ran down his face as he struggled to keep from screaming and his eyes pleadingly searched each face in the room for help, even though he knew he'd never get it. The only one who seemed even remotely compassionate to his plight was Camille. She was staring back at him with openmouthed shock, though she never voiced a complaint.

"Camille." He groaned as another lash struck his back…this one harder than all the previous hits.

"She can't help you, Logie-Bear." Ms. Collins whispered in his ear. "She's only here to watch. Not to participate."

"Please." He whispered. "Please stop. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" Ms. Collins repeated, intrigued. "For what?"

"For not having manners. Earlier. I'm sorry. I'll be good. Just stop."

Ms. Collins smiled behind the broken boy. "You'll be good?" She struck him again across the butt, loving the red welt the blow left on his already reddened skin.

"OW!" Logan groaned, unable to hold back his cries any longer. "Yes, I'll be good! I promise!"

"Good." Ms. Collins said. "We can continue. Question Three."

Logan's head fell forward as despair washed over him. He was in too much pain right now. He'd never be able to get the question right.

"What is the gestation period of the Alpine black Salamander?"

Logan's head snapped up as hope flared within him. He knew this. Holy crap, he knew this! He'd watched a documentary about the Alpine black Salamander on Animal Planet two nights ago! He couldn't keep the smirk off his face when he answered smugly.

"Thirty-Eight months."

Ms. Collins' eyes narrowed and Logan could practically see the steam coming out of her ears. "Correct." She answered crisply, obviously not pleased with his answer.

Logan just continued to smirk at her, incredibly relieved that she wouldn't beat him again.

"So, Logie-Bear, I guess you deserve a reward."

Logan didn't like the evil glint in her eye as she returned his smirk with a smirk of her own. Uh oh.

She eyed his still hard lower region with a contemplating look. "You must be very uncomfortable with the way Jennifer left you. All that built up tension….just begging for release."

Logan shook his head quickly. "No, I'm fine. Really."

She slapped him again, quickly silencing his continued objections. "I told you not to talk out of turn." She reminded him, rubbing her hand gently over the red handprint on his cheek. "Now who should I choose to relieve you of that tension? Hmmmm?"

She turned to face the class, her eyes roaming over the faces of his classmates until she stopped on the worst possible person.

No.

She wouldn't do that.

"James." She called out, making Logan's eyes widen in panic. "Come give Logan some relief please. He deserves it for getting that question right."

James stood up, smiling, and headed for the bound boy at the front of the classroom.

"No." Logan pleaded. "No, please don't do this! Not him!"

"Why not?" Ms. Collins asked. "He's one of your best friends. I'm sure he wants to do this for you. He wouldn't want you to be in pain. Would you James?"

"No, Ms. Collins." James answered back smugly.

"Blow him, James." She demanded and the young man fell to his knees in front of a panicking Logan.

"James, don't do this." Logan tried again, looking down at his friend. "This isn't right. You don't want to do this. OW!" He cried when Ms. Collins hit him again with the crop, this time across the chest.

"Don't distract him, Logan." She chided. "He's just rewarding you."

"I don't want a reward!" Logan yelled back. "Beat me! I don't care! I don't want this to happen!"

"James, stop." Ms. Collins ordered, pushing the young man away from Logan. "You want me to beat you?"

"Yes!" Logan looked directly into her eyes. "I want you to beat me! I need you to beat me! Please!"

Ms. Collins regarded the boy in front of her for a second before she broke into a wide smile. "I think having your best friend blow you will be a worse punishment than beating you, don't you think, Mr. Mitchell? After all, this is a sex dream."

"NO!" Logan screamed, struggling against the chains as James moved closer to him. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. He had to wake up! He'd never be able to face James…dream or not…ever again if this happened.

Wake up, Logan! Wake up wake up wake up!

James moved closer to the bound boy, his head leaning forward, only to hit empty air as Logan disappeared. He fell forward onto the floor, where Logan had been chained only seconds before.

"NOOOOO!" Ms. Collins screamed, fury consuming her as her prey vanished. "NO! That's impossible! No one wakes up before I allow it! NO ONE!"

There was no way that pathetic little boy had gotten away from her!

She whirled around to face the class, her fury settling upon the curly haired, frozen girl in the back. "You!" She snarled, marching towards a wide eyed Camille. She snapped her fingers and Camille unfroze.

"What is this place?" She stammered, looking around fearfully. "What the hell is this?"

"Did you like what you saw, little girl?" Ms. Collins mocked, looking down at the scared girl. "Did you like watching another girl stroke your boyfriend? Did you like watching me beat him?"

Camille shook her head, moving as far away from the irate Ms. Collins as she could get in the desk chair. "No." She stammered. "No, it was horrible."

"There was so much more I was going to do to him." Ms. Collins growled. "But somehow he woke up. Go. Leave me. And tell your little boyfriend that the next time I see him, I won't be so nice. No one gets away from Dreamweaver. NO ONE!"

Camille sat up in her bed, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. "Oh god." She whispered, terror still consuming her. "Oh my god!" She scrambled to turn on the lamp next to her bed, hoping the light would be enough to rid her of the overwhelming fright she felt.

It wasn't.

What the hell had they gotten themselves in to?

**TO BE CONTINUED:**

* * *

**A/N: And of course, up next is Kendall and Jo's dream. Whatever shall I do to them? Hehe!**


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